On the Borderline
by Haptic Motion
Summary: Bookverse: In which a seemingly normal outing for an Asian woman goes terribly wrong, resulting in a complicated game of survival in a different world. Between being mistaken for a southerner, an orc, nearly beheaded by an angry dwarf, and shot at by a fl
1. Chapter 1: Korea

**Author's Note: **I would like to say that this story will definitely not be a Legomance. He's had enough abuse. I don't need to add to it. Nor will there be any romances between other characters with my OC, who are fated to be with other canon women such as Eomer and Lothiriel or Aragorn and Arwen. Don't wanna break them up if you understand me. Besides that contrary to what many believe, Legolas is not the hottest elf around. I'm quite partial to Maedhros myself though. Him and his sexy one-handed self. And who knows this may become a steamy dwarf romance in the future. Not enough sexy bearded love out there (except for those really slashy fics). Po', po' Gimli! ;D There may be a moderately good looking guy under all that...fuzz.

**Chapter 1: Korea**

I absentmindedly brushed an errant strand of dark hair away from my face as I continued to sort through the sesame seed leaves stacking them neatly together into the earthenware glazed clay pots later to be smothered in a pungent soy sauce for fermentation. Continuing my monotonous duty, I was dimly aware of my younger cousins running around playing a game of tag, a faint feeling of envy rising in my heart. _Must be nice not having any responsibilities_, I sighed. The sun loomed directly overhead by the time I was finished, sealing the pots off with a heavy lid. With a sigh I stood up stretching languidly before sliding the doors open, heading inside the traditional Korean structure while calling for my grandmother, whom I found in the kitchen. She was mixing a batch of kimchi placing some in similarly made earthenware clay pots I was using earlier. Taking her attention away from her task momentarily to focus on me, she inquired whether I was finished or not and if I were to go collect some gosari, gesturing to a basket in the corner. I gave her a dutiful, slightly forced smile grabbing the basket and telling her I would be back soon. Leaving the kitchen, basket clasped firmly in my hands I slid the door shut behind me, quickly pulling on a pair of old boots and I began my journey up into the mountains, where the farming village was nestled at the base of.

It wasn't exactly the summer vacation I had planned in my head upon visiting Korea. I thought I would wander the cities, buying into the latest fashions, eat some of the local food, maybe fool around a bang or two, but I found myself in the middle of the countryside attending a family reunion and helping my aging grandparents with their backbreaking work. Every morning at the crack of dawn I would be awoken by the shrill crow of the rooster signaling the start of the day. I would collect the freshly laid eggs available, sometimes receiving a nasty peck or two before proceeding to milk the cows, who were annoyingly stubborn creatures. That was usually followed by feeding the pigs their slop, which basically consisted of a mixture of old rice and table scraps and I'd finish out the day with whatever other chore that would be randomly assigned to me.

Sometimes I would be out in the field picking kochu, other times hiking up the mountain led by my grandmother in search of some medicinal herb. My elder cousins, would contribute to the load of farm work by cutting fire wood and slaughtering our evening meals. I participated in the slaughter of a chicken to my horror on the second day of having arrived alone three heavy suitcases laden with clothes and other miscellaneous, useless accessories in all my spoiled, Americanized glory. I nearly passed out from shock that day as I watched my cousin snap the bird's neck, ripping the head off, the body flailing spastically. He handed it off to me telling me to pluck it, which I did reluctantly, my gut roiling in nausea. My grandmother then proceeded to teach me what was edible in the chicken and what to get rid of. She tossed all the items, that I would never eat, into a silver bowl hearts, kidneys, liver, and gizzard telling me they would be prepared later in a stew. I refused to eat that night opting for my unhealthy junk food I had brought in one of my bags. Eventually after weeks spent at the farm, I would become desensitized to the point where I could gut an animal without thinking twice about it or feeling the slightest bit of nausea, not that I was proud of that.

I followed the winding river upstream, where a slightly overgrown trail followed along the route. Paddy fields and other multifarious crops were stretched out on either side of the fast flowing water. Stray peach trees lined the shore, which I took advantage of taking a few and letting the icy cold water wash over them before storing them in my basket next to a pair of worker gloves and a pair of shears that I would use to snip the stalks of my quarry. The sun beat down on my head, the bandana providing meager protection from the harsh rays. Sweat ran rivulets down my back causing my tube top to cling uncomfortably to my damp skin. Periodically I would pick at the cloth allowing air circulation.

Gnats hovered around me and I desperately wished for some bug repellant cursing myself all the while for leaving it in the bowels of one of my many bags. Hitching up the basket a little higher, I quickened my pace wanting to get my task over as soon as humanly possible. An hour or so passed before I found myself on the mountain walking along the trail through some dense forest. Deciding that I was finally under the ideal growing conditions of the plant that I sought, I left the trail. Sprawling flora brushed against my legs and I was glad that I had enough sense to wear some long pants as a thorn vine snagged on the coarse fabric. Gingerly plucking the vine loose I stepped over it and I found myself in an open glade where lo and behold a batch of gosari was growing in the center.

Slipping on my gloves, I grabbed the shears and began to snip away at the stalks piling the plants into my basket as I did so. I continued on unaware of the darkening overcast sky, thunder clapped in the distance which I studiously ignored. Only when freezing droplets of rain began to fall striking my bare skin did I stop. Remembering a stern warning my grandmother had given me about the danger of the ever changing weather in the mountains the last time I was up here with her, I found my way back to the trail. I could dimly remember that an old shrine lied not too much further ahead where I could find shelter from the rain. I walked carefully up the trail, the rain steadily growing in intensity. The dirt became slick causing me to slip a few times scraping my knee against a sharp rock on a particularly nasty fall. I shook off the pain and continued on. I used the closely packed thin trunk trees as a guide rail traveling through the muck when the shrine finally came into view.

With a sigh of relief, I clambered my way over to the aged building slipping under the roof. To my surprise several candles were lit as were incense, wisps of silvery smoke hanging in the air. A Buddha statue sat as the centerpiece in the room, his face contorted with a wide jovial smile. I sat in front of his plump frame gazing out at the rain. The rain didn't let up until well into the night. Feeling a few pangs of hunger, I bit into the soft flesh of one of the peaches that I had plucked earlier. Enjoying the sweet treat, I took another bite when a little worm came wiggling out from a hole in the side. I dropped the peach instantly startled by the intruder when a memory came unbidden of my mother. I could remember her telling me that eating many peach worms would make your face more beautiful. It was a humorous old wives tale, but I found myself looking at the worm with a newfound curiousity that began to crawl along the floor making a hasty escape. I sent a glance over to Buddha and asked, "Should I?" It almost seemed as if his stony grin broadened. I shot my eyes back at the worm and ignoring the protest that began to uproar on the more cynical side of mind, I plopped the wriggling creature into my mouth. A gush of slime spurted as I bit down on the hapless worm before I gulped it down hastily feeling my face twisting in disgust. Appetite sufficiently ruined, I grabbed another this time worm-less peach and placed it next to Buddha as an offering. Big guy like him must be hungry, I mused.

The rain finally having abated I took a step outside. An orchestra of insects greeted my ears, a cicada whizzing past my eyes. The moon and stars were fully visible in the night sky. It was remarkable just how clear and bright they were away from the constant lighting from the more heavily populated areas. I could point out every single constellation that I was aware of tracing them lightly with my finger. It was beautiful, one of the only plusses of living away from civilization. Deciding that I was going to hazard going down the mountain in the presently dark and damp conditions, not wishing to stay alone on a mountain overnight, I grabbed my basket tossing a salute to the Buddha statue as I left. It probably wasn't the smartest move on my part, but I found it overly spooky to be alone.

Finding my trail, I made my way down traveling at a snail's pace as I took carefully placed steps on the wet earth. A jingle greeted my ears. I paused in mid step straining my senses for a moment. I dismissed the noise thinking my mind was simply playing tricks on me. Another jingle this time louder than the original. Bells. I froze, my eyes darting around frantically to pinpoint where the source of the sound was coming from all the Korean ghost stories flaring to life in the forefront of my mind. I detected a grayish-white blur out of the corner of my eyes flash behind a grove of trees. Swallowing nervously, I cleared my throat and called out in my rather poor Korean, "Annyeonghaseyo?" The surrounding vegetation rustled, droplets of water were shaken loose. The silvery silhouette of a figure stepped out from the brush.

The hair on my neck rose when a pair of glowing amber eyes met my own. Gooseflesh prickled my skin as the air grew chill, a stream of my breath became visible in the night air. The figure began to approach, gliding towards me the jingling growing louder by the second. My heart began to thunder within my chest, an unnatural unexplainable fear gripping my entire body. I felt frozen in place, wanting to move but finding myself unable to. My eyes widened in horror when the figure veiled beneath the darkness stepped into the moonlight extending a long, pale gray arm towards me. The face of a woman was revealed. A gruesome slash split her face from ear to ear, hair hanging limply, eyes bloodshot…her face opened up in horrific yawn. Paralyzed with fear, I struggled to breathe as her face drifted only an inch away from my own when suddenly the earth I was standing on gave out from under me.

I fell backward striking my head against the tree behind me. Despite the painful collision to my skull and the pounding afterwards, it felt as if a great weight was violently arrested from my body. Thinking became clear, feeling returned to my limbs, the spell that I had fallen under was lifted. Opening my eyes blearily and taking no chances I refused to meet the woman's gaze immediately propelling myself to my feet only to run down the trail at breakneck speeds, an unearthly shriek shattering the silence behind me. For a split second, I turned my head to look back to see if the ghostly woman was pursuing me. I discovered that the strange woman stood far up the trail from where I had my encounter halted in her place by a gleaming white animal...a fox? I wasn't given much time to think about it as my foot slipped on a particularly slick piece of greenery. I went tumbling head over heels down the mountain side. It seemed as if I struck every single stone and tree on the descent down. My head slammed into a rock, little white sparks exploded across the inside of my lids. When I finally came to a jarring stop body prone upon the damp cold ground, I was dancing back and forth in-between the realm of unconsciousness. I was dimly aware of a figure running towards me, my eyes were blurry and I was unable to focus in on their face clearly. Fearing it was the woman with one last push of strength in self defense, I sent my fist flying. With a satisfying echoing thump, I lost my last grips of consciousness falling into the sweet dark oblivion.

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	2. Chapter 2: Blacksmith Brandir

**Author's Note: **I know this is a rather quick update, seeing how it's barely been a day since I've posted the story up, but I'll be going out of town on vacation type things. I decided I might as well give you this quick treat rather than letting it float around my computer for God knows how long. Anyway, enjoy, and I'll be back soon hopefully. ;D

**Chapter 2: Blacksmith Brandir**

I awoke to a warm damp cloth being placed against my forehead. There was a dull throb in the back of my skull and my limbs were unbelievably sore. I wondered what had happened to cause all this discomfort when all the memories came crashing back into my mind like a tidal wave swallowing the pain at least for a moment. My lids fluttered open and I sat up quickly, regretting it almost immediately when a bout of nausea swirled in my gut. Groaning, I doubled over in pain when I felt a hand upon my shoulder. Surprised at the sudden contact, I flung my arm wide meeting air as the hand disappeared. I caught a figure fall over onto the ground out of the corner of my eye. Focusing my eyes on the violator of my personal space, my eyebrows shot up in surprise. The man was dressed as if he was ready to go to one of those anime conventions as a cosplayer. Either that or a renaissance fair similar to the one my friend dragged me unwillingly to I might add, while I was still living in America. He looked roughly around his late thirties or perhaps early forties a bit old for fooling around in a costume in my personal opinion. His hair was a shaggy dark brown reaching past his shoulders, I wondered if it were a wig, and a thick beard graced his chiseled face. His eyes were a dark gray and what struck me the most about his appearance was how unbelievably dirty he looked.

Swearing loudly, he stood up slowly clutching his side. He shot me a pained yet curious expression before drifting across the other side of the campsite. A fire was blazing in the center, thick black smoke billowing up into the trees. I glanced at his face once again, strangely drawn to his nose which was slightly discolored, dry crusted blood ringing his nostrils. I stared at him, opting not to say a word. The whole situation struck me as odd. Why was a white guy dressed in medieval attire in the middle of a forest in Korea cursing in a bizarre accent that I couldn't quite place? It vaguely reminded me of a British accent, but was far different than any I had ever heard and I am quite the traveller. Watching him closely out of the corner of my eye, I assessed my bodily damages I had afflicted upon myself. I was covered in dark purplish bruises and scratches. There was a lump at the back of my skull, but nothing serious I hoped. He drifted closer to me, taking cautious steps as if approaching a dangerous animal. I gave him a thin smile. He seemed to be disconcerted by it.

"Mind telling me where we are?" My voice shattered the silence. He looked at me in surprise, as if amazed that I was capable of speaking. "Well…?" I asked with a touch of annoyance in my voice. He frowned at me unsure of what to make of my question. He tentatively asked, "You don't know?" Brow furrowing in concern. A strange lilt in his voice. I glared at him. "If I knew, would I be asking you?" He laughed, a small smile gracing his lips as he sat down next to me giving me a wide berth.

"We are to the west of Esgaroth on the outskirts of the woodland realm. I had dealings with men there. Your presence surprised me, it is not often that I see a strangely clad woman running madly through the woods. Tell me, what was pursuing you for you to be in such haste?" A perplexed look greeted my face. I gave him a blank stare. Who did what now? Clad? Haste? This man clearly is insane. Or really committed to staying in character. Esgaroth…I thought quietly to myself, where have I heard that before? Woodland realm, Esgaroth, bizarrely dressed man…clearly I'm dreaming because I can't possibly be where I'm thinking I am. I looked at the man, closely examining his form espying a sword girt at his belt. Don't tell me that's real. Is any of this real? I pinched myself. Ow. This is a rather lucid dream, maybe I fell on a batch of poisonous mushrooms. I thought I got out of that whole Tolkien faze when I ran out of books to read that he'd written. I wonder what age I'm dreaming of? I hope to God it's the Silmarillion. Maybe I'll be able to steal the silmarils and just give it to those damn Feanorians rather than play their stupid game of hot potato after all it is **my** dream. I sent him another look out of the corner of my eye. Should I play along? Maybe if I do I'll finally get this crap out of my system. Nerd.

"Your thoughts run deep." His voice cut through my musing. I sighed, "You have no idea. So you're a ringer, too?"

He looked at me in bewilderment. "A ringer?" "Yeah, a ringer. Where's the convention?" He looked at me even more confused. How very convincing. He spoke haltingly, "I'm afraid...I do not know what you mean." Sure, you don't.

His next question startled me.

"Do all the women from your land look as strangely as you do?"

My eye twitched. I applauded the man for his committment, but as seemingly innocent as the question was after all it didn't seem like they had people in the Tolkien Universe that shared a similar appearance to my own and I knew that fact, I couldn't help but feel offended. Guessing my thoughts immediately he broke out into a sheepish grin and said quickly in a soothing tone, "You are a pretty if not unique looking girl I assure you." I stared at him in disbelief as if that would assure me of anything. Racist. "What I mean to say is—" "What do you mean to say?" I cut him off anger rising in my voice. The charade starting to wear thin on me. He hesitated, swallowing uncomfortably. "Your eyes, your nose…as a matter of fact, your whole face is strange, not that you're hideous. I simply have never seen such facial features in my life all together at once. Forgive me, but I do not mean offense. I wonder though is it possible that you are one of the fairy folk?" A mixture of emotions rose to the forefront of my mind, the strongest of them all were anger and confusion even humor. "Fairy folk?" I mused aloud. "No, I'm Korean," I paused at his look of bewilderment. Still unwilling to break character, eh? "Forget it. Just know that I'm not a fairy or whatever you maybe thinking in that head of yours. I'm the same as you." I gave him a side long glance. Maybe not the same. Satisfied at least for the moment by my brief explanation, he poked at the campfire with a long stick out of boredom.

"You know, where I'm from I have some pretty valued facial features." He looked at me quizzically. "There are women who are willing to cut their face just to have eyelids like mine." He gave me an alarmed look unable to wrap his mind around my words. No plastic surgery in Middle Earth, I thought amused. It was annoying though how many women queried on what I had gotten done as if it were not possible to simply be born with double lids. I sighed. I guess it's to be expected. Shaking these thoughts away, I brought my attention to the crackling flames of the fire. "What's your name?" Startled taking a moment to compose himself, he answered quickly, "Brandir son of—" I cut him off, "Okay, Brandir. I'm Jisun." He blinked, "Jisun?" "Yes," I said straining my voice, "Jisun. Call me Sunny." He nodded. I thought the whole point of cosplaying was choosing to be someone that people actually were familiar with.

"Do you happen to know about a guy by the name of Gandalf?" I asked suddenly, deciding to have a little fun with the situation. There was a twinkle of remembrance in his eyes or familiarity with the name at least. "He's an old man, dressed in gray robes, big staff, pointy hat, long beard, you can't miss him." I used Ian McKellen as the basis of my description. He nodded slowly. "I am familiar with the name." You should be, loser. "Any idea of where this old guy might be?" Brandir shook his head giving me an apologetic frown. "Of course not," I sighed. After all the guy does wander around a lot. Hence the name gray pilgrim. Mithrandir. "Why do you ask?" Why do you think? Jesus Christ. "Look…I'm not even going to try to explain to you what's going on with me because let me tell you, it's pretty damn unbelievable. I don't know if I'm dreaming or if this is real and I hope to God that it isn't, but you seriously need to cut the crap. Seriously."

Brandir appeared puzzled and I felt a mixture of pity and amusement for the poor man. I was tempted to say that I was sorry that I was not the kind of person to role play, but something made me stop. His mannerisms were extremely peculiar as was his accent that threw me off. He looked at me as if I was the one with a few screws loose and maybe I was or maybe he was the one who escaped from a mental institution. Deciding to give my worries a rest about being alone with this obviously crazy man who appeared mostly harmless, I allowed myself to relax somewhat. "Hey, Brandir…" "Yes, Lady Sunny?" I flinched at the ridulousness of the title in combination with my name, ignoring it for now. "What exactly are you supposed to be? Are you a ranger or what?" He laughed. "No, I'm afraid not. I'm a blacksmith…" He voice hung in the air. Blacksmith? Of all the things, you've chosen to be, you choose that. Jesus. I followed up with another question. "Are you married?" Another smile. "Ah, yes, I was returning to her in Dale. I have a son. He should be roughly around your age, I believe." That's surprising. A woman was actually willing to be with this guy or maybe this is just part of **his** fantasy.

"He's twenty-one?" He shook his head slowly, eyes twinkling in merriment. "No, he is nineteen years of age this year." "Ah…" I strained my mind for other forms of small talk I could engage him in when I was interrupted by a question of his own. "What of you? Are you married?" I laughed uproariously. "Me? Married? That's a good one. Definitely not!" Sobering up, my voice taking on a serious tone I spoke. "Listen, Brandir. I know we've just met and all, but…we really need to figure out how we're going to get out of this place. It's pretty clear to me that we're lost and it's probably not a good idea if we were to split up--" Brandir's voice cut through my own. "Did you think I had the intention of leaving you here? I can assure you that we are not lost. I am aware of where we are and there will be no trouble reaching Dale from our location." Dale? Where is that supposed to be? Pusan? "Oh…" Unsure of what to say. Gesturing toward the pallet I had been laying on, he said with a note of finality in his tone. "Sleep. There is a long road ahead of us tomorrow and I intend to reach Dale by sunset." Bristling slightly at his authoritative tone, I obeyed surprising myself at how quickly I slipped into the realm of dreams.

* * *

_The earth began to shake violently beneath me. The building crumbled into the ground, red flames spewing forth from the jagged ruins. Smoke began filling my nostrils, squeezing the very breath out of my lungs. Painful hacking coughs rippled throughout my chest and I fell to my knees. Tears blurred my eyes, the smoke blinding me. I let out a silent scream._

My eyes snapped open. Brandir stood over me, an air of urgency about him. I opened my mouth to ask him what was the matter when black arrows whistled by my ear embedding themselves in the trees on the opposite side of camp. Shock and confusion immobilizing my body, I was dimly aware of Brandir hauling me to my feet and dragging me forcefully out of camp as loud guttural jeering met my ears. Swearing, he quickened the pace. My legs cried out in protest, still sore from my run down the mountain. Shoving me behind a particularly broad oak tree, he drew his blade from its sheathe. The sword glinted in the early morning light. That looks real. "Brandir, what—" He shushed me before drawing a long dagger from his boot enfolding it within my unwilling hands. My eyes widened. This looks really real, too. I gave him a look, which he interpreted easily from my gaze. _You don't expect me to use this do you?_He gave me a sad smile, his head dipping in a slight nod. Time slowed as he leapt out from behind the shielding trunk of the oak, the harsh clash of metal striking metal as he met our adversaries.

Orcs.

I gotta hand it to these guys. Their costumes looked impeccably real. Must've cost them a fortune.

Brandir met his 'foes' with a loud cry of anger. His blade sinking into the dark, warped flesh. Deep red blood spewing out like a fountain staining the rich earth with their foul liquids. Nice touch. Three of the 'orcs' met his defiant blade, each falling beneath the swift and sure strokes . One of the creature's heads was hewn from the neck, the body collapsing to the ground as the head rolled harmlessly to the side. My eyes widened. What the fuck? How'd they manage that little stunt? Another was stabbed through the gut. His three adversaries defeated, he wiped his blade clean on one of the orc's leathery armor before sheathing it with a grimace. I applauded. "Nice reenactment, guys." He shot me a concerned look, I smiled giving him the thumbs up. He stepped over one of the 'corpses' of the 'orcs' when an arrow materializing out of thin air embedded in the tender flesh of his throat. His eyes widened in shock. Lips parting slightly as blood spilled forth or rather red dye, staining his chin and teeth. Brandir buckled to his knees, hands gripping at the arrow. This guy could be an actor. I walked over to him, prepared to pat him on the back for a job well done when a cold realization struck me. This was a little too real. I touched his throat, the 'blood' seeped onto my hand. I gave the wound a closer inspection, noting the torn flesh and his pained breathing.

I screamed.

"**BRANDIR**!"

A powerful emotion surged through me as I watched him gasping for breath. No, this isn't possible. A lone orc archer stepped out from the brush, drawing an arrow from a quiver notching it in a **very** authentic bow aiming it directly at me. A hand grasped my arm and I looked to see Brandir mouthing the word 'run'. An arrow whistled past grazing my arm. Mind reeling in shock at the sudden rush of pain, I turned my gaze wordlessly back onto the archer, who pulled out a crudely made blade and began to approach me. Before the wheels in my mind began to click and turn, my body was already in motion. I ran.

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	3. Chapter 3: Delirium

**Author's Note:** I'm back and oh so tired, but not tired enough to not post up this chapter. The next chapter will be more interesting I guarantee you because she finally gets to encounter a canon character and the time this story takes place will be revealed as well sort of. Anyway enough of that, go on and find out what happens to our poor little delusional Korean girl. Nothing good, I can assure you. ;D

**Chapter 3: Delirium**

Never in my twenty-one short years of life upon this earth would I ever expect to be in quite the situation that I was facing now. I was running away, chased by a devilish creature only my most twisted nightmares could conjure up within the recesses of my mind. All the years spent watching horror movies and reading novels having an adverse effect on my imagination. I should have expected that it would prove to be my own undoing, as I became absorbed quickly into this sick hallucinogen induced fantasy. No matter how many times I told myself this wasn't real I couldn't believe myself. Everything was so vivid, so painful, but so very improbable. The torn flesh from Brandir's wound, his labored breathing, the warm blood that stained my hand…not real. Or maybe it was real. Maybe there was some bizarre medieval murdering cult in the mountains of Korea that no one was aware of and that I had the misfortune of stumbling upon. Or maybe, just maybe, this was in fact Middle Earth. I dismissed the thought almost immediately. Impossible.

I slowed to a stop. Why run? I turned around to face my adversary. This isn't real. A remote thought slipped into mind. Maybe if I do something so outrageous the shock will wake me up. The twisted creature that had been pursuing me also slowed to a stop upon seeing me. It appeared to be puzzled by my actions, wondering why I no longer ran in terror and disappointed from the thrill of the chase being halted abruptly. It waved its crudely fashioned blade threateningly at me, an intimidation tactic that had virtually no effect my growing reassurance that this was merely a dream comforting me. I wasn't afraid of the boogey man anymore. I lifted the dagger Brandir had given me to my face closely inspecting the sharp silver object. I shot a glance at the orc that began to shift uneasily from foot to foot, its blade falling to his side unsure of what it should do. I allowed my eyes to meet its own. They were a dull, dark in color with no sparkle of intelligence. I gauged the stupidity of the creature deciding to take its obvious weakness to my advantage. This orc, by no means, was the leader type. It was a follower, submissive and pathetic. I took a step forward; the orc alarmed took a hasty step back. I smiled as I took another followed by another, the orc continuing to step back in retreat. It was a discomfiting role reversal to be certain for the monster. I grew bolder quickening and lengthening my stride until it was me that was chasing the orc through the woods. I found myself laughing like a mad woman at the turn in the situation. How idiotic. This may be a dream after all and I'm taking control of it now.

The scenery began to change rapidly as we headed deeper into the forest. The trees were becoming warped and distorted. Twisting vines and mosses hanging from the gray boughs. Leaves and other decaying matter littered the ground, crunching beneath our footsteps. I could dimly hear the rushing of water in the distance when the orc began to call out in its low guttural voice unintelligible words. A feeling of foreboding descended over me. He was calling for something. But what? I found my answer sooner than I hoped. There was a rustle in the dark green leafy boughs above us, the sound of sandpaper brushing against sandpaper and hissing greeting my ears. A dark blur of rapidly moving spiny legs dropped down from the canopy of the tree beside the orc, pouncing upon the unexpecting creature. It sank dripping fangs into the warped flesh, the cry of pain dying upon the orc's dark lips.

Spiders.

The spider began to rapidly entomb its prey into its silky thread, I watched with a mixture of horror and fascination, which was short-lived by a solid thud that echoed beside me. I turned to see perhaps the largest spider in my life rearing to attack. Oh shit… I debated whether or not it was wise to scream thinking that if I did it would only serve to further attract more of its eight legged friends…I screamed anyway, not before thrusting the dagger into the lunging arachnid's head or at least I thought it was the head. The spider hissing in pain drew back momentarily before coming back at me at full force managing to sink one glistening fang into my shoulder, which in turn caused me to hiss in pain. If that didn't wake me up, nothing will. I pulled the dagger free only to thrust it into the spider's mouthy bits for lack of a better word.

Clutching at my wound, feeling a tingling sensation begin to spread throughout the area, I made my escape with whatever strength leftover in my body I could muster. Whether it was by mere luck or chance, my escape was a somewhat successful one. To my knowledge and strained senses, nothing pursued me.

I collapsed near a slow moving stream from fatigue. Blood flowing freely down my bare shoulder seeping into the light fabric of my tube top. I slipped a quivering finger into my open wound pulling back at the wave of pain. It was deep, but oddly enough not as painful as I thought it would be. It hurt, of course. Any sharp object tearing through your flesh would, I can imagine, but there was a numbness that made it bearable. The water was having a calming effect on my mind as I watched through partially lidded eyes the liquid shimmer in the sunlight and I felt a sudden urge to lay down, my brain turning to mush and I complied with this desire. The cool clear water submerging my tired muscles. A water bug skittered by, grazing my arm where earlier the arrow had made its mark. I felt like crying, but I couldn't will myself, too. Must be poison, I thought with a sad smile. The familiar rustle of leaves floated into my ears. My eyes slipped shut unwilling to watch my impending death.

That's odd.

Footsteps.

I attempted to open my closed eyes only to discover that I couldn't, my strength was officially burned out. Deep voices in a strange tongue hovered over me as firm touches gently prodded against my flesh. I wanted to desperately smack the hands away, but my arms felt like two blocks of lead. I felt my body being lifted and tossed over a broad shoulder. A hard object slamming into my head. "Oi! Careful now!" A deep voice reprimanded, now in an understandable though thickly accented 'English'. "Aye, don't you worry. It was hardly a knock at all." Another voice deeper than the first answered. I groaned. Hardly.

The voices began to bicker back and forth, the accents making it difficult for me to comprehend what they were saying completely. I could understand snatches of the conversation, enough to formulate cohesive sentences within my mind. There was a growing activity of spiders and orcs. Some were becoming bolder, setting foot out of the bounds of Mirkwood.

More ringers, I thought dully, despite the growing belief that everything was in fact real.

With that last conscientious thought, I fell into a spell of sleep. I was aware to an extent through a dreamy haze that the scenery around me was changing. It was like a photo album cutting from picture to picture, not necessarily all connected. My senses were a live filling in all the holes. Sometimes I would hear birds twittering then loud arguing then what sounded like the dull roar of a crowd of people within my ears. The smells also changed some were pleasant, some not so much. I felt people touching me, warm liquids flowing past my lips, a sharp stinging sensation emanating from my shoulder when some cool cloth was pressed against it. Everything was a blur of different sensations that I wasn't fully conscious of. Time slowed and sped up rapidly in a confusing dance. It was a bizarre experience that I couldn't quite explain because I was both aware and ignorant of what was going on in the living world. My mind was a jumble of thoughts, of puzzle pieces that I was struggling to reconstruct and eventually I gave up allowing myself to fall into an empty blackness.

After all, I hate puzzles.

**Read & Review**


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